


On Love's Light Wings

by fandomworshipper



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Before Carry On, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Oblivious Simon Snow, Pining Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Slow Burn (Sort Of), They're in 7th year, Work In Progress, i swear im working on this, i'll add tags as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-08-21 06:35:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16571498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomworshipper/pseuds/fandomworshipper
Summary: Set before Carry On, Simon fights off a were-beast in the courtyard at Watford - fairly standard procedure, something attacks, Simon defends and protects. But when Baz is attacked, Simon, Baz and Penny realise they're in deeper than they thought, both in their personal issues, and in saving the World of Mages.





	1. A Place for Everything and Everything in its Place

**Author's Note:**

> The title has honestly nothing to do with the story, I just like the lore and conditions of that spell.  
> The first chapter's kinda short, I know - it's like an introduction to the story.  
> Also all the chapters are all named after spells from the book, and I've made up a couple of my own (like Under the Weather)

_** Baz ** _

I tangle my fingers in my hair, shaking the last tidy strands out of the remains of my slicked back style. Sighing, I collapse back on my Watford bed, somehow still surprised after seven years by how uncomfortable they are. 

Snow's snoring lightly on his bed across the room, in full uniform, and his shoes have stained the sheets from where he's brought in half the countryside. Merlin, he's cute. He even has the audacity to gently blow his curls out of his face and have them fall back again with every exhale, the bastard.

Just ten minutes ago, our Magic Words class had been practising  _ **Under the Weather**_  (Snow managed to cock even this one up - he made Bunce unable to stop frowning instead of creating her a personal rain cloud like he was supposed to; he stood weeping with laughter for most of the lesson under his ridiculous polka-dot poncho) in the courtyard, and there'd been a worrying crash from across the moat, followed by thumping footsteps. Snow (whom this had sobered) immediately called for his sword, and Bunce and I raised our casting hands. The question of what it was had quickly been answered when the inner gate received a denting blow, and then the wall of protection spells shattered like glass, sending shards of shimmering magic raining down on us. This shook all the students out of their terrified paralysis, and sent a stampede of screaming, terror-stricken people practically breaking down the doors to the White Chapel in their scratching, clawing hysteria.

Without any wards between us and the _thing_ , Bunce, Snow and I had stood, glued to the spot, staring at the grotesque being that stood, tongue lolling out of its long mouth. It looked like a dog, but roughly ten times bigger than a Great Dane, and missing... something, something that without, it felt like it was missing something fundamentally dog-like. The way its narrowed, slitted eyes honed in on Snow without regard for anything else had made me uneasy, and the way Bunce had shuffled towards him showed she felt the same way.

Honestly, I don't know what I had been so worried about.

At first, Snow had seemed put off by the way it didn't attack immediately, but when it took a step, its dark, reflection-less eyes flicked towards Bunce. Upon seeing her, it changed its course, foot-long claws uprooting the grass behind it as it stalked towards her. Stupid, stupid creature.

The moment it had begun to move towards Bunce, Snow's magic had become choking. About four feet away from where she stood, frozen in fear, it stopped. It had seemed to wince, and then it had barely lifted a foot to continue when Simon screamed, ' ** _FAT CHANCE, HAIRY ASSHOLE_** ' (honestly Snow, you couldn't have thought of  _anything_  more eloquent to pour your magic into?) and the creature had howled in pain, Snow advancing on it like a panther, his magic emanating off of him in nauseating waves. It had cowered away from him, its previously intimidating likeness to a very-much-mutated dog now adding to its aura of terrified prey, helpless at the hands of its pursuer. 

' _ **I'd leave if I were you**_ ,' he had snarled then in barely more than a gravelly whisper, but his magic carried it on the wind, which had picked up tremendously, his words echoing in my ears.

After that, it had taken barely ten seconds to scramble to its feet, tearing up the turf in the grooves of its claws, and barrel out of both sets of gates, disappearing into the thick mist.

Now, here he is, sleeping as if he didn't just see off a  _were-beast_  by  _shouting_  at it, looking worn out and yet somehow also at peace. I assume that's because of his 'hero complex', as Bunce calls it.

Simon Snow is a force of nature.

And I can't resist him.


	2. Hell Hath No Fury

**_ Baz _ **

'No, Pen, I  _can't_ , I've tried,' Snow giggles, wand gripped loosely in his dangling hand.

Bunce sighs, but the glitter in her eyes betrays her, and Snow clearly knows her well enough to know she's not really mad at him. 

Snow, still glowing with the remnants of laughter, turns to me, and I flick my eyes away before he looks at me (and so I can't get lost in his eyes). He always manages to flip a switch and go back to normal after he fights something. It's as if he completely forgets it, and this time is no different. Here he is, flunking Magickal Theory, just like usual. Nothing new.

But his magic has been thrumming in the air since last night, so heavy it's almost palpable, and this smoky, stuffy, stifling atmosphere is having an effect on the inhabitants of wherever Snow is; everyone's on edge, the same thought clogging their thoughts - how in the name of Merlin did it break the wards?

 

Now it's been a day, and his magic is still thick as ever. We're both laying in our beds, and he looks so alive, so, so alive, the back of his hand resting lazily above his head, fingers caught in his bronze curls, the pale moonlight bouncing off his blue, blue eyes. 

I shake myself out of my daze, dragging my hands down my face and rolling to face the wall. 

Just when the tug of sleep has started to pull me under, Snow says my name. Surprisingly quietly, but he definitely said it.

'What?' My eyes are open now, and sleep has retreated back out of reach, so I sigh, resigned, and roll back to face him.

He looks afraid.  _Simon Snow_ looks afraid. 

His magic is static, a nervous energy of spikes and smoke.

'What?' I breathe.

'Don't move.'

I close my eyes, my breaths becoming ragged. Merlin and Morgana, what is it that it can make  _Snow_  afraid for  _my_  life? 

I swallow thickly. I haven't drunk anything since the night before the day of the were-beast intrusion and that fact is catching up to me now, head spinning to add to my dread. 

His magic is so thick, the smell seductive, dizzying, and I can feel my head swimming dangerously. I shake myself sober and whisper hoarsely, 'what _is it_ , Snow?'

'If I fucking knew,' he breathes, 'I'd've told you, prick.' He spitting insults at me like usual, but his voice wavers and it's so un-Simon-like that I'm taken aback. 

 

_**Simon** _

There it is, looming over Baz. Baz's broad frame would normally be intimidating, but now he looks frail and meek in comparison. 

I had watched it slither - no, roll - across the floor, tendrils of ominous fog, just seconds ago, and then it had started to congeal into fingers at the edges, then too-long arms, bony shoulders, a scaly torso. Long, animalistic legs with jagged-clawed feet hanging on the ends. 

And its _head_.

I take a gulp of air, not taking my eyes off it for a second. 

Its face is gaunt and the skin of its neck is so tight to its tendons it looks shrink-wrapped. It looks like it had been human. And now... well, now it's not. Its deep eye-sockets are so empty, and there's a tug in the air. Not anything from me, a tug reminiscent of the humdrum, a sucking feeling, but it's not the same. It's not static, it's not an absence of magic, it's not the air. 

It's its eyes. 

It turns towards me again, like it did when it first crawled up over Baz's bed. It doesn't feel like it's taking my magic, or even that my magic is dwindling; no, it feels like it's got a grip on my soul. A twisting, icy grip, stopping my voice getting above a whisper.

'Baz... c-come here.'

'Snow, what's going on?' 

He looks genuinely worried, but he doesn't look like he's afraid. He's confused, concerned, but he's not afraid. 

'Please, Baz.'

Its pockmarked lip curls.

 

_**Baz** _

Snow never pleads. He takes. 

I swallow, and press a hand into the mattress to steady myself. I sit up. Exhaling slowly, I begin to lift the covers off me.

_**No.** _

A strangled scream rips its way up my throat. _Something's in my head._

Aleister Crowley _,_ it's _in my head._

I fall back on the bed, eyelids closing of their own accord, unable to get a breath into my lungs as something sucks the air from the room. I can hear Simon choking, hacking out coughs in a painful plead for air.

Eyes watering, I clench my fists and force my eyes open.

What the  _fuck_  is  _that_.

 

Before any thoughts of  _what it is_  can even pass through my head, it's lunging for me with its mutilated talons. Twisting its long, bony wrist, reaching, clawing, scratching-

I swear loudly with the last of the air in my lungs, ducking out of the way. I roll off the bed, grace lost in the moment of panic, and fall to the floor in an undignified heap, shaking hands fumbling for my wand on my night stand. But I'm trembling too much, and in my haste I catch the cuff of my sleeve on my lamp and it crashes to the floor, shattering on top of my empty hand. A jolt of pain shoots up my arm and I wince, unable to make a noise with an empty chest.

'Shit- Baz?!' Snow chokes out, sufficiently broken out of his petrified state, voice strained.

I look up just in time to see a flash of green as he leaps into action. Before I can even lift my bleeding hand, the creature is leaping into the air, away from the gleaming swipe of Snow's sword.

At this, the air rushes back into the room in a cold, hissing gust. It whistles past my ears, so loud that the thing's shriek as Snow's blade sinks into it's side is momentarily silent, but then the air slows and it overtakes my senses. It's a human wail; shrill, echoing, but human.

 

**_ Simon _ **

I watch it shudder, blurring at the edges. The wound in its side becomes fuzzy, shifting like a badly made flip-book, the thick, dark blood rolling down its hip becoming a haze of crimson mist. 

In the same fashion as it had appeared, it begins to dissolve into dark fog, spreading across the floor. Baz scrambles away from it, breathing heavily, and I grab his elbow, tugging him behind me and away from it.

But it doesn't make any attempt to come towards us again, rather going up the wall and out of the window in a decidedly un-fog-like way, and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Baz's wrist shifts in my hand, and I realise I'm still holding on. I drop it.

'Did you kill it?' His voice is unsteady, and something in my gut tightens uncomfortably. 

I want to tell him I did. That I beat it. That it's gone. But I can't, and I didn't, and it's not, and I frown, my eyes drifting down to his face. He's still staring at where the thing had been, and he picks himself up and sits on the edge of his bed. A moment later, his gaze falls to his hands twitching in his lap, before he lifts his head and his eyes find mine, and my stomach clenchesagain; he looks so afraid, I've never seen him like this before. 

'Well?' I can tell he's trying to push his typical spite into his voice, but it just sounds forced and weak.

'Huh? Oh- oh, I... I don't think so,' I murmur, turning to the window and pushing my eyebrows together.

I brace myself for his upcoming remark. I'm expecting a biting 'well, you should have,' or maybe an 'and no one ever listens when I tell them you're the worst chosen one to ever be chosen'. Maybe even just an eye-roll, or a sigh. But I wait, and in the silence that follows I feel his eyes on the back of my neck.

My lip eases its way between my teeth and I swivel around to face him. 'What?'

He jerks his head down, but his grey eyes are still locked on mine. 'Nothing.'

Furrowing my eyebrows further, I push out my jaw and open my mouth to reply, but I stop myself; I'm too tired for this, and clearly Baz is too, and for once, I don't want to argue with him. I just want to go to bed. I sigh, releasing the stubborn tension from my muscles and briefly closing my eyes in exasperation.

'OK,' I mutter, setting myself down on my bed, 'alright.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading lads, sorry this is so late - I've edited it into oblivion and it's over twice as long as the first chapter, so it took forever. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed :)


	3. A Little Bird Told Me

**_Baz_ **

 

Aleister Crowley.

 

Snow’s magic is thick in the air - almost as thick as him - and I can feel my head slowly going fuzzy. In overly large quantities, his magic is like an anaesthetic; it makes you giggly and sleepy, stops you thinking properly. I’m still bitter about the time he stressed so much in an exam in first year that he made everyone too high on his magic to think properly, and we all failed.

 

But right now, it’s not an exam that’s causing this, or me (or his ex-girlfriend, or Penny nagging him, or any one of the myriad of other reasons he gets pissed). In fact, Snow is having a nightmare, and I don’t know what to do.

 

‘No… don’t want…’ he mutters, eyebrows drawn together.

 

I frown. This isn’t new. I mean, it’s new dialogue (‘don’t want’ seems like a phrase I’d remember him sleep-talking), but the whole nightmare thing? That happens at least once a week. Although, I have to say, he’s usually woken up by now…

 

Sighing, I realise that my stupid, stupid, love-sick mind has already decided that I’m going to help him, and I barely have time to register what I’m doing before I call out to him.

 

‘Snow… Snow.’ He rolls over, still shaking. ‘Snow.’

 

Still nothing. Time to pull out all the stops.

 

‘Simon!’

 

He yelps and I swear he jumps a foot in the air, before falling back on the pillow, bronze curls splaying out dramatically. He huffs out a shaky breath and his blue eyes are wide. Chest heaving, he looks over at me, and the dawn glimmers gently in his irises, trapping my breath in my chest with just how beautiful he looks. Crowley.

  


**_Simon_ **

 

_‘Baz! What are you doing?!’ I go to summon my sword—it doesn’t appear._

 

_‘Baz! Stop it! Put it out!’_

 

_He’s not listening._

 

 _‘I said put it_ out _!’ I don’t know when I started crying, but I don’t have the energy to wipe the tears away. ‘Baz!’_

 

_Suddenly, he whips his head around to face me. The fire all around us glints dangerously in his eyes and on the tear tracks down his cheeks. He’s snarling, but there’s no menace behind it. He’s afraid._

 

_I rush forwards—I don’t know what I’m doing but I can’t seem to stop. I open my mouth to shout again but he cuts me off._

 

_‘Why, Snow? This is what you want, is it not?’ And with that, all the openness that was in his eyes is wiped away, the crease between his eyebrows suddenly cruel rather than concerned._

 

_I’m not sure why it upsets me._

 

_I can’t be bothered to work it out, either; he’s in danger and that’s my priority._

 

_‘Come on, don’t you want this?’ He turns and spreads his arms wide, and it hits me how much he looks like a suave ‘50s villian from some shit mafia film—hair slicked back, suit hanging loose, eyes cold and angry. As if on cue, just to add to the image, the flames curl towards him, like hungry animals, and I lose it._

 

_‘No,’ I don’t even sound angry; just loud (really loud. So loud that Baz twitches a bit), ‘stop it. You’re flammable. And’ —I grab his arm before he can stop me— ‘I don’t want that!’_

 

_He freezes up and we lock eyes for a second. His arms drop to his sides in defeat._

 

_‘Snow,’ he mutters, and I notice how close we are. He says my name again, slightly louder, and I barely feel myself leaning closer._

 

_I feel his fingers brush my cheek and I barely think before leaning into the touch._

 

_‘Snow,’ he whispers again. His eyes flick down, lingering on my lips before dragging back up to mine again._

 

_In the back of my mind, it registers that the fire’s gone out._

 

_There must be another reason my face is hot…_

 

_He leans down then—really, he barely moves, but it’s enough to have me reaching up, the inches he has on me working to his advantage as he tilts my head back. We’re millimetres apart, and something in me stirs. I can’t hold myself back any longer, I’ve got to kiss him. I have to. I realise faintly that I shouldn’t, but I need to._

 

_Throwing caution to the wind, I roll forward on my heels and—_

 

‘Simon!’

 

Jolting awake, a strangled yelp rips its way up my throat.

 

Shit. I look over at Baz, who’s perched on the edge of his bed, looking ready to leap up (or bolt). He’s not even hiding his concern—maybe he’s too tired—and I’m shaken by how much he looks like he did in my dream. His grey eyes are brimming with worry; it makes them stir like dark oceans, or storm clouds, or—

 

He raises an eyebrow at me. ‘What?’

 

A vicious flush stains my cheeks and I snap my gaze down to the floor. ‘Nothing.’

 

He narrows his eyes, but not cruelly. I hazard a glance back up at him, and catch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows (obscenely). He has a weary look in his eyes and he sighs when I look back down.

 

‘Snow.’

 

My face burns even more—it’s exactly the same tone as dream-Baz, and I can’t stop feeling the ghost of his hands on my face, tilting my head back—

 

‘ _Simon_.’

 

His voice startles me back to reality again.

 

‘Look’ —he shifts— ‘I know we aren’t… friends, but if you need to talk to anyone, Snow, I’m not going to make fun of this.’

  


**_Baz_ **

 

I wait a moment before I continue.

 

‘So,’ I say quietly, grappling for a way to word what I want to say, ‘you can talk to me if you’d like. Because, well, that… thing that got in scared you, I know that.’

 

He keeps looking at me, eyes wide and cheeks pink. (I’m starting to wonder if it really was a nightmare with how much he’s blushing.)

 

I swallow. ‘It scared me too, Snow. If that’s what the nightmare’s about, then…’ Merlin and Morgana, I’m barely able to form a sentence when he’s looking at me like that.

 

He hasn’t opened his mouth in so long it startles me when he murmurs something back.

 

‘Sorry?’

 

‘It wasn’t.’ Oh. Alright.

 

Continuing, he has his eyes trained on his hands in his lap. ‘Well, it _was_ a nightmare, at the beginning, but then… it- it wasn’t. And, uh… you were in it.’ He looks up from under his curls. He’s still pink and I have to bite my lip to stop myself asking more.

 

I suppose it was a nightmare at the start when I was in it, and then he killed me and rode off into the sunset with Wellbelove, or something equally shit and sappy. Irritation stings behind my eyes but I blink it away.

 

‘Well, are you alright?’

 

His eyes soften, and I feel myself slipping into dangerous territory when he looks into mine. ‘Yeah,’ he mutters and shrugs, ‘confused, I guess, but I’m alright.’

 

I shake myself, nodding curtly. ‘Good.’

 

He smiles again. I’ve never seen him smile at me like this before. ‘Night, Baz.’

 

He rolls over before I can respond.

 

——

 

**_Simon_ **

 

‘So, Simon, what’s the matter?’ Penny looks me up and down.

 

‘What?’ I haven’t even told her anything yet, how can she tell?

 

‘Well, you keep staring into space, Simon.’ She keeps using my name, almost like punctuation. She uses it to pressure me into telling her things (especially if there’s something wrong).

 

‘Listen, can we not do this _here_?’ I nudge her, gesturing to the multitude of students around us in the dining hall.

 

‘Lawn?’ She asks, but she’s already getting up.

 

——

 

‘So.’ Penny settles on the grass and squints at me, leaning on her elbows.

 

Tensing under her scrutiny, I bite my lip. ‘I don’t know where to start.’

 

‘Start with why you haven’t gone back to your room all day. It’s a Saturday, Simon.’

 

I huff (like a five-year-old) and let my head fall into my hands. ‘Well, Pen, want me to start with the thing that got in the gates on Thursday? Or maybe the other, worse thing that got in mine and Baz’s room and tried to _kill him_ , or perhaps even the dream I had where-’ I stop myself. Taking a breath, I look up at Penny and give her a look that she knows as an _I’m-not-mad-at-you-I’m-mad-at-the-world_ look.

 

She opens her mouth, then closes it again, and I subconsciously reach up and press my thumbs into my temples. Penny’s rarely speechless, so if this is making her like this, I know I’m gonna get an earful.

 

‘The _what_ that got in _where_?!’

 

Wincing, I shrug.

 

Her hands drag down her face, then she lays her palms flat on the grass and raises an eyebrow at me. ‘Start talking, Si.’

 

‘I… I don’t know what it was, but it turned into smoke, and then… into a _thing_ like a really weird, deformed person, I guess. But it was- it was _scary_. It went for Baz-’

 

‘Baz? Why did it go for Baz? He’s already dead.’ Her lip worries its way between her teeth.

 

‘I don’t know- wait, he’s not _dead_ dead—I mean, he’s alive, really, isn’t he? I bet he’s not _that_ cold, not like a corpse—’

 

‘Maybe get back to the point? You know, the one that’s ‘like a really weird, deformed person’ that tried to kill Baz?’

 

‘Right,’ I say, clearing my throat. ‘Yeah. That. It was… uhh, it was like it wanted to kill him, but I don’t know why, cause it wasn’t a person, I don't think, and don’t the Pitches get on well with most magicfolk? But I stabbed it—’

 

‘You _stabbed it?!’_

 

‘—and then it ran away. But Baz hurt his hand on the lamp—oh, and the thing took the air out of the room like a hoover—’

 

‘Simon, what?! Stop, stop, stop. You stabbed it? Did that _help_?’

 

‘Yeah, it let the air back in; I must’ve broken it’s concentration or something.’

 

‘Do you have any idea what it was? Or how it got in? If it was a dark creature it shouldn’t have been able to get past the wards…’

 

I shrug. It pisses her off.

 

‘Right,’ she raises her voice a little in exasperation and stands up, dusting off her skirt, ‘we’re finding Baz.’

 

She drags me up before I can react and pulls me away from the tree we were sat under.

 

‘Pen— no, Pen, we can’t— Penny!’

 

My face scrunches up as I give in; she’s got her mind set on this, she’s not giving in.


End file.
